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Dragonboy422
In the beginning, I was no one. Some called me a “freak”, others called me a “weirdo”. Most of them knew me as the Dragon, one that was feared due to my abnormal abilities with metamorphism. The time I spent roaming around the corridors in educational institutions were merely to bide my time. I could not be bothered with trivial activity for much longer. The lines between fate and consequence, reality and imagination, life and fiction would start to blur, and I could not sustain the uncertainty that was bound to blacken my vision if I did nothing about my figure. I could feel the chemicals seeping into my skin, threatening to rip my flesh from the confines of my body, daring me to fall apart at the seams, taunting me with my cowardice. The people who knew about me didn’t talk about me, the people who didn’t know were oblivious to my abnormalities and I lurked in the shadows like a moth drawn to a flame. The only way I could ever sustain the fiction of having such a “normal life” was if I tried to ignore my abilities, lock them away and bury them deep within the ground of my subconscious so they could never be retrieved again. Unfortunately, that was not possible. I had tried. ' ' As soon as it started, I could feel it, the way that my skin creased at the edges, the searing white-hot pain that struck my vision with its intensity, the removal of my human form to be enclosed in a sphere separate from the world of reality entirely, until I was no longer myself but a copy that could never quite be worthy of admiration. “A side effect from radioactive decay” was what the scientists called it, the period of abnormality in which my town was struck by a wave of poisonous chemicals that killed them all. Every single resident. Every last one. I was discovered, dead, and revived by scientists at the Institute. They told me I should’ve been dead. I believed them. I hated myself, who I had become, the way that the clear lines of fiction and reality, normality and abnormality blurred and faded into the dust like no boundaries had ever really existed. According to them, I never really had a name. I was just a label in a book of useless projects that could be boxed up and locked away. An aberration that could easily be terminated and replaced by a better copy. They feared what they couldn’t control, and I was untamable. ' ' The forms stirring inside me, the identities that bound me to that blurred line of consciousness, were awakening. The Beast would come out first, his charcoal black robes flowing in a wind that didn’t exist with wings of jet-black beauty that flapped fervently in the wind and gnawed at the bitter cold. Next, stirring inside me and fighting for a chance to awaken would be The Lady Ianite, one of the goddesses ruling the land and everything that touched it, the lady of fairness, of equality and prosperity in a land filled with chaos with wings of purple and black, as only a shadow of her former self. Finally, buried deep within the realms of my soul would be The Ice Dragon, a beautiful beast with solid white wings of crystalline flawlessness. They were nothing to fear, tame as I could allow them, until they were perturbed by my recklessness. The purpose of my journey across the land was fairly straightforward. I was to lead the followers of my fair Lady to the Ianite Monastery, the Land of the Faded Royals, a land adorned with banners of faded brilliant red and radiant gold. Pillagers and raiders arrived at the same time as me, however, with nerves of steel and intentions of harm. My place being one to promote peace and equality as a servant for the Lady of Justice herself, I was forced to flee. It was there that I met the most impactful figures of my life, a hooded figure draped in a taupe cloak, a recognizable paper roll between his frail lips. It was then, in a flash of blinding purple light, that I realized my true reckoning was with my Lady, the bringer of peace, the promoter of equality. My residence became one where no harm will come to me and no harm can be done unto others. The commoners knew it only as the Realm of Oblivion, the End Dimension. There I bade my time, sacrificing my life to my lady until I was to awaken again. They would pay for mocking me. I would destroy them all in a haze of fiery wrath. I drew the cloak I had come accustomed to carrying tighter around my body and drew up my hood in an unclear action of mysterious intentions. It was then that the smoldering flames around me sent me lurching forward onto the uneven concrete floor. Battling between consciousness and the uncertainty of oblivion, I fought to keep my eyes open, but to no avail. And finally, the darkness consumed me again.